by Meg Ripley
“Yes, it does.” He took her hand, pulling her towards him. She didn’t resist, but only because she was always eager to feel his body against hers. His hand ran down her spine, coming to a rest on the curve of her ass, his other arm wrapped in a possessive band around her shoulders. “I know all there is to know about the shape of your body. If you do not like the dress, I will have it removed, but I do hope you’ll at least try it on for me.”
April took a deep, even breath. It was clear he didn’t understand her reaction to the beautiful gift, and now she only felt embarrassed again. Her insecurities around her body always seemed to perplex him, and they were beginning to frustrate her. Still, she couldn’t resist one last effort to avoid trying on the garment.
“I don’t know if that color will look good on me.”
“That shade will look very fetching on you. Especially with your coloring.”
The hot tendrils of embarrassment still crawled through her stomach. The dress didn’t look like her regular size 28, and she feared the color would make her look like a big, round tomato, but the dress was gorgeous and it was a very sweet gesture. What would be the harm in trying it on? Nobody would see her but Mads, and he preferred to see her without any clothes on at all, so the dress wouldn’t be missed once she tore it off.
“I’ll try it on,” she said, giving him a good squeeze before stepping out of his arms.
The zipper on the back gave her another reason to be concerned, but she dropped her robe and stepped into the dress, pulling it over her hips and around her bust. The fit was snug, but not tight, and when Mads stepped behind her to zip it, the teeth closed smoothly. She straightened the skirt and adjusted her breasts inside the fitted cups. It left her arms and shoulders exposed, but the sight of her bare arms didn’t detract from the beauty of the dress. In fact, she barely noticed her arms when she saw her reflection.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“You’re beautiful.” Mads stepped behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. “We’ll make a very dashing couple tonight.”
“Where are we going?” It didn’t matter where they went, as long as she was on his arm.
“Dinner and the opera.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I must go prepare myself. The car will be here at seven.”
“I’ll be ready.” She tilted her head back and kissed his jaw. “I love you.”
He moved quickly, catching her mouth with his and claiming it in a long, deep kiss. His free hand went to her breast and she arched against his palm, forgetting the new dress and their surprise date, wanting nothing more than to fan the flames kindled deep inside her. She loved the way he kissed her, the way his body felt against hers, hard every where she was soft, and yet his flesh was yielding, welcoming to her.
“I love you, too, mein Schatz. I’ll be back at 6:45.”
“I’ll be waiting. Oh, will you unzip this for me?”
It was hard to let him go, but once he closed the door behind him, her attention went back to the exquisite dress. The skirt flared out below her hips, moving beautifully around her legs when she did a test twirl. The bodice accentuated her breasts with a sweetheart cut, showing off just enough cleavage. The color did not make her look like a tomato at all. Mads had been right about the shade—it did compliment her natural golden hue very well.
April checked the time—she had a little more than an hour to do her hair and makeup. She didn’t know if she had the skill to do justice to such a dress, but she couldn’t waste any time. Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she carefully laid the dress on her bed and grabbed her makeup bag. They’d been out together since they arrived in Florence, but only during the day, and only briefly. He’d asked her each night what she wanted to do, offering her anything her heart desired, but she only wanted him.
Perhaps he needs a bit of a break, she thought with a wry smile. On the other hand, a mere mortal would have probably demanded a break much sooner. If she bordered on insatiable, his hunger for her was ravenous. Sometimes, when he was buried inside of her, she wondered if it was the man or the dragon who craved her the most. It was the dragon’s eyes she saw the most these days; twin golden rings staring at her as though he could see every secret and hidden space she carried inside.
She’d only seen the dragon itself once: nearly a month earlier, when he saved her life from another dragon. Chester Maelstrom had turned homicidal and then had morphed into a dragon with a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. She didn’t think about him much, but she still dreamed of being chased and cornered. What if Mads hadn’t crashed through the glass ceiling when he had? The answer was easy—she would have been turned into dragon food. But Mads had arrived in time, killing her attacker and marking her as his.
Since that time, they’d been on holiday. She couldn’t believe Mads would take such an extended break from his work, but when she asked about it, he’d only smiled and said, “It’ll be waiting for me when we return.” April wasn’t going to argue. She’d never had the chance to travel, and Mads owned hotels around the world. Florence was her favorite city so far, but there was still so much to see. He’d promised her Berlin, Paris and Prague.
She shrugged her robe on before moving to the brightly lit vanity mirror. It obscured most of her body from view, but the top of her knee was visible, as was the bottom of the red mark he’d left on her thigh. He’d promised to answer any and all of her questions—and she had a lot—but she never asked about the mark. Not because the mark itself bothered her. It was the memory of the dragon and the way his member had grown, reached for her, sought her. She’d been terrified, but beneath her hot flash of fear had been undeniable excitement. She didn’t know how to explain it or qualify it. She didn’t even know how to discuss it with Mads, and she had no other secrets from him.
April traced the edge, but there was no sensitivity. When Mads touched her there, it felt like the dragon had returned to drench her body in flames. She smiled at the memory of his mouth moving over the mark but shook it off before it could completely distract her. She had to get ready. They were going out—she’d keep him in bed all day tomorrow to make up for it.
“Now,” she asked her reflection, “what should be done with this hair?”
8
An entire pack of paparazzi waited outside the opera house when they arrived, and the rapid flash of bulbs blinded April. People shouted for their attention, flinging random questions and demanding explanations. Any other time, that would have been April’s living nightmare, but Mads was so handsome and her dress was so exquisite, she felt like a Hollywood star on the red carpet, and even knowing the pictures would be splashed across newspapers around the world didn’t shake her confidence.
Once inside, Mads led her to his private box right above the stage. The seats were plush and comfortable, and when the lights went down, her hand found his thigh. He rested his fingers over her, stroking absently over her knuckles while she gently massaged him. She wanted to do so much more than that—and she was certain she could get away with it in the privacy of their box—but he seemed genuinely excited for the performance.
April had never been to the opera in her life—and she didn’t understand a word of Italian—but she found herself entranced by their beautiful voices and the pure spectacle on the stage. When she looked away, it was only to study the handsome man beside her. She’d never seen Mads dressed like this and the sight of him continuously took her breath away.
It took her by surprise when the lights came up and Mads folded her hand in his. “Intermission. Would you care for a refreshment?”
“Champagne would be lovely.”
He led her out of their box and down to the lobby, guiding her so she was free to stare at the ornate beauty surrounding her. When she thought about how old the opera house must have been, how many important and famous people had walked through this very hall, how beautiful every inch of the building was, it made her feel as though she must be dre
aming. A dream that went on and on and she never wanted to wake from.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Mads asked as he handed her the flute.
“Yes, this is amazing.” She didn’t understand a word of the opera, but she did know the basic story of Orpheus and his doomed attempt to save his love from hell. “Though I do wish I knew more.”
“Perhaps I should apologize for dragging you here.”
“No, not at all,” she said quickly. “I’ve never had an evening like this in my life. Besides, you can explain all the finer points to me later tonight.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
He brought the glass to his lips but he didn’t look away from her, and she saw something in his eyes that she didn’t recognize—something warm and hungry, and she almost took a step towards him. She felt drawn to touch him, but feared that if she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
“How...how were you able to get such wonderful seats?” April asked, surprised by how dry her voice sounded.
“That’s my box. I enjoy the opera. It’s one of the few things in this world that doesn’t change. La favola d'Orfeo sounds the same now as it did in 1607.”
April didn’t often think about the reality of Mads’ age—it was too much to wrap her mind around, somehow. She didn’t know his precise age, but she knew he’d seen centuries pass him by. He first heard this opera four hundred years ago, and he’d likely still be listening to it four hundred years from now. She’d be dead by then. She tilted her head and downed the rest of her champagne.
“Well, look who it is. I should have known you wouldn’t have the decency to stay in hiding for very long.”
Mads turned and greeted Savannah Maelstrom with a smooth smile. “Savannah. Charles. I forgot you were fans of the opera.” He spoke as though their last meeting did not end in bloody death.
Charles Maelstrom looked like an older, stockier version of his son, Chester, but his eyes flashed with anger. April stepped closer to Mads.
“You have some nerve, showing your face here tonight.” Savannah’s voice cracked with the force of her rage, and color climbed her cheeks.
“I always attend the opening of the season. I am sorry for your loss, Savannah, but I believe it is more fitting for you to sit at home and grieve.”
“How dare you,” Charles growled. “I should have you arrested.”
“On what charges?” He sounded more curious than concerned, as though they were discussing something purely hypothetical. April merely wondered what had stopped Charles from calling the police a month ago. Perhaps dragons did not welcome humans in their affairs.
“The murder of my son,” he bit out.
“Your son intended to blackmail me. In the process, he nearly devoured my mate. His punishment fit his crimes.”
“Your mate.” Savannah sneered the word, her beautiful features twisting into something ugly. Monstrous. “You shouldn’t be so cruel to the girl, Mads. She’s nothing more than your plaything.”
Charles touched his wife’s arm. “Savannah, we should get back to our seats.”
“Listen to your husband, my dear.”
But she gave no sign of hearing either of them. “How could she be your mate when she could never bear your son? How can she be your mate when she will never know how it feels to fly or snap bones between her teeth? How can she be your mate when she’s dead and you go on living for centuries more?”
Mads took a half step forward, his eyes narrowed and his voice so low it sounded more like a growl. He didn’t make a single move to touch her, but she still flinched back from the weight of his gaze and the pure sense of power radiating from him. April caught the moment of confused indecision on Charles’ face—like he knew he needed to put himself between his wife and a threat, but he had no desire to be caught in the middle.
“You never were one for subtlety, were you my dear? Know this. If anything happens to April, I will come for you. If she so much as stubs her toe, I will make you pay for her pain. And if you see me again, don’t come whining to me about your worthless son or I will take your entire clan from you and leave you staked to a mountain of their bones.”
The bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission.
“Enjoy the rest of the show,” Mads said, his voice returning to normal. “Come, mein Schatz.”
April took his arm and let him lead her away from the Maelstroms’ smoldering anger. She waited until they were safely seated before whispering, “What the hell was that?”
“She intends to kill you.”
“What?”
“Dragons speak very literally.”
“So, when she said ‘when she’s dead,’ she didn’t mean sixty years from now when I’ve died of old age in my bed?”
“Correct. She means she plans to kill you herself.”
“Why are you so… blasé about this?”
“I told her what I will do to her entire clan if anything happens to you,” he mentioned coolly. “Do you believe that was an idle threat?”
“What does it matter what I think? Does she believe it is an idle threat?”
Mads took both her hands in his. “I will never allow any harm to come to you. As long as you’re with me, you’re safe.”
“Okay.”
“No, not okay. Do you believe me?”
“Of course I believe you. I trust you with my life.”
He brought her hands to his mouth, kissing each of her knuckles. With each brush of his lips, a little of her fear dissolved, until she was almost completely at ease.
Almost.
Because deep down inside, she knew Savannah had a point. How could she be his mate when she couldn’t ever truly share his life?
9
While they remained in Florence, April couldn’t relax. She jumped at the sound of every footstep in the hallway outside her suite, and when they ventured out for dinner or gelato or just to stretch their legs, she shied away from everybody who passed by, subconsciously searching for the face that now haunted her dreams.
She knew Mads would never let Savannah hurt her, and she knew she had nothing to fear, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that things were far from over. Savannah had clearly been wounded by the loss of her son, and that pain was not going to go away anytime soon. It would only continue to feed her anger and need for vengeance. She didn’t mention anything to Mads, but she wasn’t surprised when he announced they were leaving Florence.
“You’re not comfortable here. But I know where you will feel safe.”
They flew out of Florence’s tiny airport early the next morning, landing in Frankfurt barely an hour after they took off. From there, Mads rented a car and drove them out of the city into the German countryside. They climbed into the Alps, the sun falling lower and lower behind the peaks as they moved higher and higher, until finally it was dark and April felt like they were on top of the world.
“Where are we?” she asked when they stopped. In front of her was a fortress, its massive spires outlined in the silver moonlight.
“April, my dear, this is my home.”
“This is your...castle?”
“It is.”
“Oh my god, I’ve always wanted to visit a castle.” For the first time in days, she forgot Savannah, Chester, and all of that unpleasantness. “Why did you never mention it?”
He laughed. “I forgot how Americans romanticize castles. For me, this is just home.”
“Home. Did you build it?”
“No, not me. But I did win it, fair and square.”
“You mean you conquered it?” What medieval army would stand a chance against a dragon? Nobody stood a chance against him today. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to learn that his greatest competition in today’s world was another dragon clan. He crushed all other forms of competition.
“Yes, but the person who held it was a very bad man.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough to earn the ire of a dragon.”
“Are dragon
s peaceful creatures, by nature?”
“Not by nature, no. But we may be very peaceful by choice.”
The castle was old and drafty, and even with its modern comforts of electricity and running water, April still had the sense of stepping back in time. She wanted to explore every inch, search for ancient hidden passageways and ghosts and old tapestries. All of the musty old books she lost herself in as a child came back to mind, urging her to seek out great adventures.
“Are we the only ones here?”
“No, I have a small staff that lives here and sees to its upkeep.”
“Why don’t you live here?”
“I find my penthouse far more comfortable.”
April yawned. “Speaking of more comfortable, can you please show me to our room?”
“It’s my pleasure.” He swept her from her feet without warning, prompting a laugh from her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was probably silly, but she loved it when he lifted her like she weighed no more than a sack of feathers and carried her to bed.
“How long are we going to stay here?” April asked, trailing kisses along his strong jawline. He tilted his head slightly, giving her greater access to the column of his throat. His skin was rough with his five-o’clock-shadow, and she shivered at the thought of those rough whiskers against her sensitive thighs. Maybe he wouldn’t shave at all while they were in Germany.
“Until we get bored, I suppose.”
Or until they screwed each other silly on every flat surface in the grand castle—which was absolutely April’s plan for their stay.
“And then where will we go?” She rested her mouth against his pulse point; his heartbeat was already elevated, as if to keep up with April’s own racing pulse.
“Wherever you wish.”
“I want to go to a beautiful beach.”
“Then a beautiful beach is where we shall go.” He stopped in front of a closed door. “Open that for me, and you’ll find a light switch is to your right.”
She flicked on the light and gasped at the sheer size of the room. On one end was a huge bed, a massive television, a beautiful sound system, a bar, and a small kitchenette. The rest of the expansive space was empty, though, and lines of discolored stones showed her where the walls once were, dividing the space into six different rooms.
